


falling into place

by indigo night (laehys)



Series: neon-colored dreams [1]
Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bikers, Biker Gang, Gangs, Gen, Mark Lee (NCT)-centric, neon lights
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-25
Updated: 2020-06-25
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:21:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24902998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laehys/pseuds/indigo%20night
Summary: Mark knew about them. The whole city knew.And when Mark had nowhere else to go, he decided he’d find them. His only hope—the Dreamers.
Series: neon-colored dreams [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1802821
Comments: 2
Kudos: 42





	falling into place

**Author's Note:**

> hmmm this was inspired by the first ridin' teasers and bc mark was back into dream.....and i totally forgot to post this back then heh
> 
> find me on [twt](https://twitter.com/pinkhrj) | [ccat](https://curiouscat.me/rensungie)

The city was a dangerous place to wander off in the middle of the night, but, even more dangerous, was the underground part with its bright neon lights casting harsh shadows and its damp alleys with too many secret passages.

Mark knew all about it. He had been born and grew up in that city, he knew which places to avoid and where he could walk at night. 

And yet there he is. Middle of the night – or very early morning? –, ducking under a broken pillar, knees scraping against the asphalt as he ventures to the other side. His elbow grazes the wall in front of him as he tries to squeeze himself into a narrow passage, avoiding a group of people turning around the corner.

Everyone knew the rumors about the underground scene and its people: the fights, the corruption, the temptation, the _money_. There were too many opportunities to lose oneself there and the underground was always with its arms wide open, teasingly inviting them with empty promises.

Mark isn’t stupid and he at least prided himself in knowing he was throwing himself into a dead end. He knew that there was no turning back as soon as he first stepped under the bright lights, heart pounding against his ribcage and searching, searching, searching.

He doesn’t know where he is, but he keeps walking into holes in the walls, crossing the dark alleys. There are people leaning against the front of stores, relaxing against fallen concrete, talking in hushed tones, neon lights washing their features away.

Mark doesn’t mind them, focused on his own task. He is going to find them if it is meant to be. Or, at least, he’ll find something that can help him solve his troubles.

There are too many rumors from the underground scene: risky contracts, too many gangs fighting for control, deals made under the broad daylight, knifes lodging themselves under a ribcage in the blink of an eye.

But Mark is there in search of only one thing. With his guard up, looking for anything that might help him locate them, he continues.

* * *

[

The sky was blue and the sun shining bright when he first met them.

It had been a normal day and Mark was waiting for his bus at the bus stop, sitting down on the uncomfortable bench because his own bike was broken, and public transportation takes a long time.

And then shots sounded in the distance.

If it had been at night, he wouldn’t find it weird. He was used to that; all the people were. But the morning was when they could go out as safely as one possibly could be in that city, where, at night, the sound of shots and sirens were the background noises for their dreams.

It was morning and it sounded too close for comfort. And he was in what it was supposed to be the _safe_ part of the city – the one where the richer people lived, where they didn’t have to worry about what the rest of the population feared.

Mark waited for cars racing down the street, the sound of police sirens echoing, the undecipherable screaming that always followed. But nothing happened and he continued waiting for his bus, minding his own business, and trying to ignore the old lady from the shop across the street who kept staring at him.

A sudden increase of weight on the bench made him snap his head up from the wrinkled resume in his hands, the paper a stark white he’d never seen before. When he looked to the side, he couldn’t help but _stare_. It was a boy, all dark clothes and narrowed eyes, a line of blood trickling down his cheek. There was a bag upon his knees, his hands curled protectively over it.

Mark snapped his head to the front as soon as the boy looked at him.

The boy stayed quiet and Mark knew enough about life to understand that he probably should stay silent too if he wanted to make out alive from there. He swallowed dryly, looking at the street and hoping that his bus would arrive soon. The old lady across the street continued to stare.

He didn’t know how much time had passed until a motorcycle roared not too far away and the boy jumped up from the seat. Mark felt his heart race and tried discreetly wipe his sweaty palms over his pants, eyes flittering across the street in search of a place to hide in case things ended up going bad.

A green motorcycle stopped in front of them with a figure clad in black and leather, a stray helmet on the arm. The helmet was flipped up and dark eyes glared at Mark until they stopped at the boy who was strapping the bag against his chest.

“Jump on,” the figure in black and leather said, voice disfigured by the helmet.

Mark tried hard not to look at them as the boy slotted his body against the back of the one in black leather, holding the waist firmly as they departed. It took a while for his bus to arrive, but, by then, Mark had already found out through his phone that he had met the infamous rising underground biker gang called _‘Dreamers’_.

]

* * *

It takes him three nights of aimless wandering until he stumbles around a corner and is facing three pairs of eyes staring daggers at him.

The green motorcycles are there, a few feet away in the alley, while two of the boys are leaning against the wall and one is sitting on the floor. By the way they’re looking at him, Mark feels as if he walked into a trap.

“What do you want?” The boy sitting down asks, voice firm. Mark couldn’t recognize any of them from the previous encounter, months ago. “Why are you asking for us around here?”

Mark freezes, heart pounding. It was obvious from his clothes, his posture, that he isn’t from there. Isn’t used to how things ran differently. The boy continues sitting on the floor, but one of the guys leaning against the wall moves to stand up straight. Mark can’t help but look at the muscles on his arms, and he hopes they wouldn’t be used on him.

“I-I was looking for… you,” Mark answers lamely, feeling heat rush through him as he tries to rake his brain for something to say. He’d been so frustrated the last days, with no results in his searching, that had almost no hope left of finding them. “You’re the Dreamers, right?”

The boy sitting down arches one eyebrow while the only guy leaning on the wall scoffs, almost as if insulted.

Marks gulps. “I wanna join your group–your gang–your team.” He stammers. “Please.” He adds nicely.

“Why?” The boy standing asks, crossing his arms against his chest. Mark very pointedly does not look at his muscles. “Why would we choose you among everyone else in the city?”

 _Why him?_ There’s nothing that Mark can say that could convince them. He isn’t used to that kind of life, has no experience whatsoever. He’d never even been on the underground before he started stumbling through it while searching for them. 

Mark _knows_ he’s probably nothing more than a dead-weight, but he has no other alternative. There are too many bills to pay, the weight of needing to secure his place and _not_ be kicked out, and the sheer desperation of accepting anything that will let him achieve that.

“I need the money,” Mark supplies weakly. “I need anything that can give me money and–I’m loyal, I learn fast. I’ll try hard, I swear.”

“Why us?” The guys sitting down asks, tilting his head to the side, a hand brushing something under his jaw. He has dark eyeshadow smudged around his eyes and Mark immediately thinks about the boy that had sat down on the bench next to him.

“I don’t want anything too risky that will get me killed in no time. You–people know about your group, but you haven’t been caught in anything big yet… So it seems safe? At least safer than other things. And–and I know how to ride a motorcycle.”

He doesn’t mention the encounter he previously had with some of their members; how he saw one of them coming in to rescue the other, wiping the blood off his face before giving the helmet. Even Mark himself doesn’t understand why he feels so drawn to them.

“You know how to ride a motorcycle? So what? So does everyone else that’s looking for us.”

Mark swallows thickly. Hopes the twitching of his fingers isn’t too noticeable. “Please. I-I won’t disappoint you. I swear. I _really_ need this and–”

“Are you being serious about this?” The guy leaning against the wall cuts him off. He straightens up and walks close to where Mark’s standing, towering over him for just a bit. 

Mark tries not to cower under his stare and to convey himself on his eyes, bare himself and plead to make them understand that this is _not_ a game. Mark doesn’t know about the people who try to look at them and what they want, but he _is_ serious. He doesn’t want to think about the other things he might have to do if they turn him away.

The guy stares at him hard, brows furrowed, as if searching for something on his face. Mark waits. Hopes.

The moment is broken when an engine roars close by and Mark jumps in surprise, eyes widening. He sees the guy in front of him rolling his eyes and they both turn to where the sound is coming from.

There’s a new green motorcycle entering the alley, neon lights shining on the ground under it. The figure jumps out from it when it’s close enough to the other motorcycles and takes out the helmet, tucking it under the arm. It’s a new face for Mark, though he’s dressed in black like all the others and his hair is a mess.

“Who are you?” The new guy asks, jutting down his jaw at Mark. He walks quickly to stand by the side of his members.

Mark doesn’t say anything but the guy who had been standing in front of him turns his attention back to him and looks deep into his eyes. “Bring your motorcycle here tomorrow, same hour. We can all talk together and see if you’re only all talk. If you’re only fucking around it’s better to not even show up.”

“Y-yeah,” Mark breathes. “Okay. I’ll be here.”

The guy nods, throwing him another look before going back to join the other boys. “Go on, then. On your way,” he says, moving his hand, indicating the alley. “Until tomorrow.”

Though he doesn’t say anything as he makes his way, Mark glances over his shoulder before he turns around the corner, catching the newly arrived guy’s eyes – he doesn’t do anything, only blinks at Mark before he turns his head to the side, breaking the eye contact with him.

 _Tomorrow_ , Mark thinks. At least it’s not a refusal. He still has a chance of making a better impression, of pleading his case.

He tries not to be too hopeful but finds it difficult when his heart is already fluttering around, his mind running wild. He wonders how many people actually manage to find the Dreamers and, from there, how many of those are successful in meeting all of them to talk a second time.

They’ve been six for the entire time Mark knew about their existence. He’s seen the pictures online, seen the videos of them racing down the street in formation, the green light cast over the asphalt. Even numbers have their advantages, but Mark can’t help imagining how it would be if they were seven. If he was there.

But it’s not real yet. He still needs to prove himself. And, with the heavy weight of his future hanging over his head, he knows he can’t fail. He’ll show them how he can complete their team.


End file.
